


Room to Breathe

by BloodEnvy



Category: Guardians of the Galaxy (Movies), Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Reader Insert, Rocket needs a hug
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-12
Updated: 2018-07-12
Packaged: 2019-06-09 07:22:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,406
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15262332
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BloodEnvy/pseuds/BloodEnvy
Summary: Your relationship with Rocket becomes strained thanks to his over-protective actions. It takes an intervention from the other Guardians and a touching gesture from Rocket for you to come around.





	Room to Breathe

You tossed your blaster on the table, mindless of the way it skittered across it towards the other side. Quill, sitting with his boots kicked up on the table top, stopped it. He gave you a half-irritated, half-exasperated look as he did, leaning forward to pointedly place it in the middle of the table. You rolled your eyes, although it was probably for the best that he’d been paying attention; you didn’t need him lecturing you for accidently blowing a hole in the Milano while you were in port. Again.

Your expression was dark enough that it even gave Quill pause; he made no snarky comment at your behavior. You and the infamous Star Lord had become friends almost immediately after you’d joined the Guardians crew; you’d brought with you your laptop and a hard-drive full of movies and television from the last forty years that he still fawned over. You’d bonded over bad sitcoms, and while your easy-going but sarcastic nature had made you the perfect companion, he also knew well enough that you were not one to be trifled with when you were in a rare bad mood.

“What the hell is your problem?” Rocket followed in behind you, Groot sitting on his shoulder with his hand buried in the fur of his neck. You ignored him pointedly, bending down to unstrap your knife from your calf. When you didn’t respond, instead throwing the blade onto the table as well, Rocket turned to Quill. He’d left the bar behind you, cocky as anything, but now that you were ignoring him, his own frustration was mounting. “Is this some humie mood thing you forgot to tell me about?”

You practically growled at that.

“Hey, you two.” Quill said, hands up and his tone wary. The tiniest amount of sarcasm still clung to his words as he straightened, boots meeting the floor. “You guys have fun today?”

“Shut up, Quill.” You barked, and he raised a brow.

“What did I do?!”

You sighed, still avoiding looking at Rocket. Which, you had to admit, was easier than you’d think what with him being only a few feet tall. “Gamora back yet?”

Quill nodded, his brow creased in confusion. “About an hour ago.”

“Great. Can we get the hell outta here, please?”

“Oh, anything when you say ‘please’,” Rocket muttered sarcastically. You shot him a glare, and it was enough that Groot quickly clambered down from his place on the raccoon’s shoulder, eager to be out of your line of sight. You felt a twinge of guilt at the plant’s fear. You’d make it up to him later.

“I’m going to shower,” you said bitterly, turning on your heel as you shrugged off your jacket. You left the room, still fuming.

“Dude! What the hell did you do?!” Quill whispered as soon as you were out of ear shot, turning on his copilot.

“What makes you think I did something?”

“That ain’t some weird Terran mood swing, Ranger Rick, she was _pissed off._ What the hell did you do?”

“I didn’t do anything!”

“You better hope not.” Quill warned him, shaking his head. “Cause if she tells Gamora somethin’ and it’s your fault, you’re gonna have _two_ very pissed off women on your hands that are totally capable of kicking your ass.”

***

You stayed in the shower far longer than usual, attempting to drown your annoyance in scalding water. It still didn’t last nearly as long as you would have liked; Drax had hammered on the door, urging you out. The last time you’d stood between Drax and hot water had resulted in him almost breaking down the door and getting an, albeit-fleeting, eyeful.

“Alright, already! Hold your horses,” you’d shouted back, then groaned. “Metaphor!”

You’d tugged the stiff faucet to off and wrapped yourself in a towel to go and stew in your bunk instead. You jammed one of Rocket’s favorite screwdrivers into the lock on the door for good measure, intent on keeping him out, at least without a significant amount of effort.

You knew it was petty and childish to avoid him, to lock him out of his own bunk and not actually discuss the issue, but no one ever said you were rational. That was probably what had drawn you to Rocket in the first place; his hot-head and short fuse meant that he was always entertaining, sure, but also meant that he often voiced your opinions in ways other than the sarcastic snipes you’d perfected over the years. You had to admire that; Quill and the others always seemed to listen a lot more when shouting was involved. And Drax never understood the mockery in your remarks anyway.

Your relationship with Rocket wasn’t something anyone you knew would consider normal. You’d balked at the idea when Gamora had suggested you’d developed deeper feelings than friendship over the last six months you’d been on board; and you’d laughed in her face when she’d told you she suspected the same of him.

You’d resolved not to say anything about it; convinced yourself you were happy to remain simply friends with the furry little creature. After all, what kind of relationship could you have? Certainly not a physical one. But Quill had made one too many comments over dinner one night that had outed the pair of you, and you’d eventually fallen into a strange kind of relationship together, more than platonic, kind of romantic, in as much as it could be between a human and a genetically-altered raccoon… and still always uncertain.

There was a tapping at your door halfway through you pulling up the sweats you sleep in, and you tugged them around your hips, frown deepening. “Go away, Rocket.”

“I am Groot.”

You jumped, hurrying to unjam the door and open it for the miniscule Flora Colossus. You swore as you struggled to work the screwdriver back out of the lock, and you tossed it aside when it was finally free. It clattered noisily against the metal floor. The door opened to Gamora standing in the doorway, an amused expression on her face and Groot sitting on her hand.

“Using Groot to get me to open the door?” You shook your head. “That’s low.”

“I wasn’t raised to be honorable,” she replied. “And it wasn’t my idea.”

“If Rocket sent you in here—”

“Not Rocket.” She held up Groot pointedly.

“I am Groot?”

“Oh, sprout!” You scooped him out of her hand, completely forgetting your state of half-undress. Pants, sure. Slippers, definitely. Bra, check. Your shirt however, was still somewhere on the floor. You brought Groot up to your face and gave his cheek a gentle kiss. “No, I’m not mad at you. I could never be mad at you, buddy.”

“I am Groot?”

“I promise,” you assured him. The little guy gave you a happy smile in response, leaning forward to spread his arms across your cheek in a hug.

“This room is a mess, Y/N.” Gamora told you in a detached voice, and you shrugged, slumping back on your bunk. Between Rocket’s shit, your clothes and the toys you kept picking up for Groot at every port you stopped at, the bunk did look like a bomb had gone off. Which, when living with Rocket, was a valid concern. You let Groot slide onto the sheets, and he immediately grabbed the nearest of the toys scattered across them. You both smiled at him as he held it up to show you, and he sat down next to you, for the moment enthralled.

“It’s not like we spend much time in here, anyway.”

“You have today.”

“Felt like being alone.”

Gamora raised an eyebrow at you. “What did he do?”

You frowned, bending your knee and wrapping your arms around it. “Why don’t you ask him?”

“Because either he is too stupid to know what it is, or he won’t tell us.” Gamora said plainly. She stepped gingerly around what could either be junk or a doomsday device, and leaned against the wall opposite you. “You’ll solve nothing by sitting here and stewing in your anger. What did he do?”

“The same thing he always does.” You shook your head. “Shoot first, ask questions later.”

“And this is suddenly an issue?”

“It is when it’s at some sleaze ball who’s hitting on me at the bar.”

Gamora hesitated, confused. “And you were offended because you… were interested?”

You scoffed, choking on a laugh. “No! Oh, God no. Gamora…” you sighed, glancing down at Groot. He was apparently still invested in whatever it was he was playing with. “I can take care of myself. I don’t like feeling patronized, and… every time I turn around lately, there’s Rocket, fighting my fights for me.”

“He cares for you.”

“I know that. I just… I don’t need a babysitter,” you said. “I need a partner.”

“And you are in here, hiding, instead of talking to him because…?”

“I’m not hiding! I’m… decompressing,” you finished lamely, and she arched a perfect brow at you again. “Talk to him? Tell Rocket he needs to back off? He’s more relaxed with me than anyone… maybe other than Groot, and I can still feel him flinch every time I touch him first. I tell him he’s being too pushy, and he’s gonna shut me out completely.”

“Y/N…”

You shrugged, forcing down the lump that was beginning to form in your throat. “It’s better that I just get over it, and he just thinks this is some weird ‘humie mood swing’ or something.”

Gamora straightened, coming to sit beside you on the bunk. She took your hand in both of hers carefully. “Nothing is going to last when it’s built on half-truths and one-sided compromises. He cares about you. Your happiness is more important than his ego.”

You breathed a laugh, watching her rub the tension out of your hand slowly. You hadn’t even realized you’d been clenching it. “You sure about that?”

“It’s a working theory,” she smiled.

“It’s not fair that you can do both the badass warrior thing, and the sage wisdom thing.”

She chuckled, but your own smile faded as you heard a throat being cleared.

“Drax picked up dinner while we were on Xandar.” Rocket said gruffly from the doorway. “They’re platin’ up now.”

“I’m not hungry.” You ignored the exasperated look Gamora gave you.

Rocket watched you for a few moments before sighing, shaking his head. “Fine. C’mon Groot.”

The plant looked to you, confused, before climbing down the side of the bunk and following his own personal guardian out the door. A muffled conversation picked up in the hall a moment later, and you raised an eyebrow at Gamora. She shrugged. Quill stuck his head in your room a moment later.

“Jesus, what is this, a truck stop?”

“Y/N – damn it!” He slapped a hand over his eyes, turning his head. “You wanna cover up?”

“Oh, please,” you eye-rolled, but grabbed the nearest shirt and shucked it on obediently. “Since when are you such a prude?”

“Since you started dating a guy who would happily blow me up for looking,” he retorted and your expression soured. “What?”

Gamora laughed lightly, standing and moving to leave. She paused long enough to touch a hand to Quill’s shoulder “That was the wrong thing to say.”

“What? Why? What did I—” He dropped it, turning back to you. “Get your ass up. We got dinner.”

“I’m not hungry.”

“Bullshit.”

“Quill—”

“C’mon. Captain’s orders.” You scoffed obnoxiously at that, and he sighed, fixing you with a beseeching look. Damn him. You may have been pretty much immune to the charm he used on women, but when he had the audacity to give you that helpless look, all puppy-dog eyes and boyish hair, you were helpless. And he damn well knew it, the bastard. “Just… okay?”

You held out a hand impatiently and he tugged you up off the bed. You let him close you up in a brief, brotherly hug for a moment. “Fine. But there better be desert.”

***

“Damn it, Quill,” you whispered, turning to face him. “You said this was dinner, not a damn intervention!”

Rocket sat at the table, arms folded tightly across his chest. He stole a glance up at you before fixing his eyes back on the plate in front of him. The others stood around the edge of it, Groot perched on Drax’s shoulder.

“Who said this was an intervention?” Peter whispered back uneasily.

“I am Groot.”

“Groot!’ Peter said, his voice returning to its normal volume in exasperation. “Just… be cool, man.”

“You and Rocket need to talk, Y/N.” Gamora told you gently.

“Yes,” Drax agreed. “Your foul mood has made the little beast more intolerable than usual.”

Rocket growled warningly at that, and you couldn’t help the smile that twitched at the corner of your mouth.

“I thought we were having dinner.”

“That’s right,” Peter told you firmly, gesturing to the table. It was currently set for two. “ _You_ are _._ We’ll be eating in my bunk.”

“Classy.”

“Just behave yourself, alright? It took me a lot to get Drax to agree not to mediate this little pow-wow.”

You rolled your eyes at him again, but cowed slightly under the look he gave you. You nodded incrementally, and he clapped his hands together, gesturing for the others to follow him back out of the room. Gamora paused by your side, lowering her voice to speak only to you.

“Be honest. And be kind. He has tried.”

You raised an eyebrow at that, but she walked past you, leaving you alone with Rocket.

***

The two of you sat in silence for a long while, picking at your food without much enthusiasm. He kept glancing up at you whenever you ate, and it was making you uncomfortable. But you were just as stubborn as he was, so you weren’t breaking first.

“I—” Rocket started, before clearing his throat and falling into awkward silence once again.

“You what?”

He shook his head, eyes still on his plate. “It’s not important.”

“Sure,” you said, pushing your fork through your food. “Food’s good.”

He looked up at that, his expression warming, like a mix of hope and pride. “You think?”

“Yeah.”

He ran a paw through the fur of his neck, groaning. It was the same kind of groan he’d make before setting off to do something stupid during a gunfight. Amusement teased at the edge of your mood, but it dropped quickly when he did the conversational equivalent of kicking open the door and marching into oncoming fire, guns blazing.

“What did I do?”

You bit your lip, dropping your fork. He looked… helpless. You ran a hand through your hair, elbows on the table. “You just…” you sighed.

His head dropped.

“Rocket, I can look after myself,” you said quietly. “I need to be able… be _allowed_ to fight my own battles. I get that you wanna… protect me, I guess. And I appreciate that. Really. But I don’t need you pulling a blaster on every asshole that looks at me in a bar. Or in the street. I need to breathe. And occasionally kick ass on my own.”

You’re gaze darted back up to him when you heard a sniff. His eyes were squeezed shut, his shoulders and head drooped forward dejectedly.

“Rocket?” You stood, accidently knocking your plate in the process. The fork clattered against it and knocked over your cup, but you ignored it, moving slowly around to his side of the table. He didn’t look up, and the closer you got, you realized his shoulders were quivering. “Rocket?”

You knelt by his side and reached out tentatively to touch a hand to the crown of his head, stroking the fur gently. He stiffened, ears twitching.

“Rocket, I didn’t—”

“Don’t leave me,” he whispered.

Your hand stilled, surprised. “What?”

“I can’t… I lost Groot.” He said, his voice shaking. “I didn’t take care of him.”

“Rocket, what Groot did…” you spoke softly, hand resuming a glacial pace through his fur. “…he did it _for_ you. For everyone. It was his choice. He wanted to protect you, just like you want to protect me. Right?”

“I can’t lose anyone else…” His confession was barely more than a whisper.

“You’re not losing anyone. Groot’s not gone. Not really. We’ve got a little piece of him just down the hall, and sleeping in our bunk every night. And stealing your tools when you’re not paying attention just so you’ll stop what you’re doing and talk to him.”

Rocket made a sound somewhere between a laugh and a sob.

You inhaled, steadying yourself. “I… I’m not going anywhere either, you know.”

He shook his head, shrugging away from your touch.

“Hey, look at me. I mean it. Those guys aren’t going to whisk me away; I’m home here. On the Milano with Groot and Gamora and Quill’s dumb jokes and Drax’s lack of boundaries, and with you. I’m not going anywhere. And I’m not asking you to go away. I’m not even asking for space. I’m just asking for room to breathe.” You scratched behind his ear, and he gave a shaky sigh at the sensation. “Let me scare the crap out of assholes sometimes. Can you do that?”

He nodded slowly, eyes on yours. They were warm and wet with tears that wouldn’t fall and oh so deep. You leaned up to press a kiss to the top of his head, ruffling his fur as you stood. “Thank you.”

***

Peter and Gamora found you an hour later, sitting a few feet from the table with your back pressed against the wall and your legs spread out in front of you. Rocket was curled loosely between them, his chin resting on your thigh. Each steady exhalation he gave tickled your hip through the thin material of your shirt and his paw rested on your knee, claws hooked in your sweats. The fingers of your right hand scratched lazily through the fur on the back of his neck and between his shoulders, carefully avoiding his scars and implants. Even asleep, he didn’t quite relax, twitching and breath catching every now and again. You had a worn paperback propped open on your other thigh, and you held a finger to your lips as Quill caught your eye.

He grinned widely, smug.

“Oh, shut up.” You stage-whispered, mindful of your sleeping partner.

“You’re a big softie, Y/N.” He replied, shaking his head in amusement. “Ain’t she, Groot? All flash and no bang.”

Groot had followed them in, and when you spotted him he hurried over to you eagerly. You helped him up onto your lap without moving Rocket, and he settled on the same thigh as your book. He pulled it towards him, admiring the cover. It was one of your old favorites from when you were younger, and you’d read it to him a few times now.

“He was worried about the both of you,” Gamora told you, a smile of her own on her lips. “Did you enjoy your dinner?”

You nodded. “We’re getting that again.”

“You’ll have to talk to your boy there about that,” Peter nodded to the raccoon in your lap.

“I thought Drax got dinner?”

Gamora shook her head. “Rocket made it. With our help. He wanted to apologize.”

“I think his exact words were ‘make up for whatever the hell it was that pissed her off so much’.”

You stared down at Rocket, touched, and stroked his ear affectionately.

 “I am Groot.” He pulled you out of your revelry as he tugged on your shirt, patting the book with his other hand.

“Okay, buddy. Okay,” you said, amused. You opened it back at page one, glancing up at Peter as passed you for the cockpit. He winked at you, his hand wrapped around Gamora’s. She paused long enough to bend down and kiss your hair before following after him.

“ _Jarred stood unnoticed in the crowd thronging the great hall of the palace.”_ You read quietly, and Groot leaned forward to follow the words on the page, despite not being able to read them. “ _He leaned against the marble pillar, blinking with tiredness and confusion. It was midnight. He had been roused from his bed by shouts and bells…_ ”

In your lap, Rocket smiled, his eyes still closed, comforted for once by his own little family.


End file.
